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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27080485">lesson</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulshrapnel/pseuds/soulshrapnel'>soulshrapnel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Villainous Kinktober fills 2020 [17]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Actual Slavery, Gen, M/M, PTSD, Slave roleplay, mentions of noncon, palpatine needs to be punched in the face and vader needs a hug, psychological abuse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 01:53:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,139</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27080485</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulshrapnel/pseuds/soulshrapnel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Palpatine threaded his fingers through the chain at Vader's throat. "You're going to be my slave for the day. It's for your spiritual development, I promise."</p><p>(Kinktober, Day 17: Master/slave)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sheev Palpatine &amp; Darth Vader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Villainous Kinktober fills 2020 [17]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947379</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Kinktober 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>lesson</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adenyl_Cyclase/gifts">Adenyl_Cyclase</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompt by Ace_Chaser: <i>"Or you could go on a more angsty route with sheev/vader for Master/slave kink (vader probably wont have a great time, but sheev would probably get a kick out of it)"</i></p><p>I did, in fact, go on a more angsty route. I just hope it's not TOO angsty for you. Sorry it's a day late; the weekend got busy and the fic ended up with WAY MORE WORDS IN IT than expected.</p><p>This uses the same "sometimes Darth Vader goes to a kink dungeon" premise as some of the other stories, but it's set much earlier in the timeline, when he's still pretty new at it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"But there's one other thing, my friend," said Palpatine, just when Vader had begun to dare to hope that their meeting was over. His legs were in an agony from kneeling, and they'd finished going over their strategic business for the morning, none of which was urgent. "I wanted to check in about your personal life."</p><p>
  <span>Vader should have guessed, he supposed, that Palpatine was in the mood for something cruel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There is nothing there to concern you, my master," he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Palpatine knew, of course, about Vader's visits to the Shadow Club. Vader would never have dared to explore something like that without Palpatine's knowledge and permission. Palpatine's <em>encouragement,</em> even. Vader's old self would have been horrified by the very idea of kink, but after he'd discovered it existed, he hadn't been able to get the idea out of his head. And Palpatine had no use for an apprentice who was unwilling to explore his own darkness.</span>
</p><p>"No, not in the way that you mean." Palpatine looked at him speculatively. "You've been good, in your way. I was only curious about something."</p><p>"Ask me, my master," said Vader, who did not want to be asked about any of this even a little bit.</p><p>Palpatine studied his nails. "You know I'm not inclined towards that sort of thing myself, but it behooves a master to understand any strange fascinations that his apprentice might suddenly possess. So I've been performing my own researches - simply by reading and that sort of thing. I must say I found most of it crude. But certain details are sufficiently ironic to amuse me. Tell me, do people use formal titles at that club you attend?"</p><p>"Some people," Vader acknowledged. "Either within the bounds of a scene, or to denote their roles in a longer relationship."</p><p>Palpatines face twisted into a smile "Have you gotten anyone to call you <em>master</em> yet?"</p><p>"Not yet," Vader said, bristling. He <em>really</em> didn't want Palpatine to ask about this. The title of <em>master</em> meant so many things to Vader - some that he desperately craved, and some that were terrible. He had noticed way it was used at the Shadow Club.</p><p>Someday, Vader knew, he would make one of his new partners kneel on the floor and call him <em>master.</em> Maybe someday soon. He wanted it, but he hadn't worked up the nerve.</p><p>"Mm," said Palpatine. He didn't need more explanation than that; they could both see each other's minds.</p><p>Vader stayed on the floor, waiting for whatever came next.</p><p>"Strange, though, isn't it," Palpatine mused, as if speaking to himself. "The word <em>master</em> is... flexible. It has no direct opposite, or rather it has several: an apprentice, a beginner, a mistress, a servant. But what has truly fascinated me, in my researches, are the people in this new community of yours who willingly call themselves <em>slaves.</em>"</p><p>Vader clenched his jaw against a terrible sinking feeling. He knew what this was about.</p><p>"They do not mean the same thing by it that it meant on Tatooine," said Vader. That was how it had been haltingly explained to him, after the first time he stumbled upon a couple at the Shadow Club doing slave roleplay and almost killed them. It must be true, since the emotions in their minds were so different from those of a real slave. Vader repeated that to himself every time he heard the word subsequently, so that he didn't strangle everyone in the room. Words could have more than one meaning. That was... logical.</p><p>"I suppose you believe that," Palpatine mused. "You must, because you haven't even murdered any of them."</p><p>Vader was unusually careful about not killing people at the Shadow Club. The club's proprietress had known, when Vader first contacted her, that a man like him could not be induced to follow rules by any normal means. He could murder everyone in attendance if he wanted to. So she had explained to him very carefully that if he killed, permanently injured, or raped anyone on her property, the club would immediately shut down and its regulars would scatter to a dozen worlds. He could still murder them, technically, but he'd never again get what he needed from them.</p><p>Palpatine picked himself up off his throne and walked to Vader, tapping his cane against the carpet.</p><p>"I am pleased about this, my friend," he said. "I've attempted to instil in you an understanding for the nuances of language, the way a word can be used and twisted to mean anything you like, but you have been slow to appreciate it. This is the first time I have seen you apply the principle. Shall we celebrate your newfound understanding?"</p><p>"I need no celebration, my master," Vader said, nervous. Whatever this was, he was sure he did not want it.</p><p>"Nonsense." Palpatine threaded his fingers through the chain at Vader's throat. "You're going to be my slave for the day. It's for your spiritual development, I promise; we must ensure that this lesson of yours is driven home. You'll attend me in my throne room as I deal with political matters, and you'll do any menial task I instruct, as a slave would, until you are dismissed. And I believe at least one of us will enjoy the exercise."</p><p>"That is unnecessary, master," Vader snapped. It was not wise to say no to Palpatine - it would only get him punished worse. But some days, Vader couldn't help it. "I already understand."</p><p>Palpatine's ghastly smile widened. "Prove it."</p><p>*</p><p>For the first hour, Vader only loomed like a guard as officials entered the throne room to plan, or to plead some political case. Palpatine asked nothing from him but stillness. This was a prelude to worse things, Vader suspected.</p><p>Normally stillness was easy. Vader was well accustomed to staring into space and meditating. The task was made only slightly more difficult by his master's presence, so close, so dark and cold, always keeping half an eye on him through their mental bond. Palpatine knew how to slyly add a <em>don't you think so, Lord Vader? </em>or a <em>what's your opinion, Lord Vader?</em> at precisely the moments when Vader's attention was drifting away.</p><p>He still called him <em>Lord Vader</em> or <em>my friend</em> in front of other people. The nature of what they were doing today was private. But in between Palpatine's meetings, whenever they had a moment alone, Palpatine would turn to Vader and find an excuse to call him <em>slave.</em></p><p>Vader's blood boiled at the word, but there was nothing to do except respond as he always did. To say woodenly, <em>yes, my master.</em></p><p>By the end of the hour, Vader's nerves were so frayed that he leapt at the chance to take an order, <em>any</em> order where he actually <em>did</em> something, instead of standing there and listening to his master's drivel.</p><p>"It's time for lunch," said Palpatine, standing from the throne again and dusting off his robes. "I have dismissed the usual servants. You're going to serve me my meal yourself, slave."</p><p>*</p><p>Vader was terrible at it, of course. Serving formal meals had never been one of his duties, and he hadn't eaten or drank anything himself in several years. Nowadays Vader was kept fed and hydrated through tubes.</p><p>He put out the wrong dishes in the wrong order. He broke a delicate wine glass by clutching it too tightly. He spilled water. He said the wrong words, which was especially infuriating, because Vader hadn't known there were a specific set of words Imperial kitchen servants were supposed to say. Palpatine hadn't told him, but he wanted them said, nonetheless.</p><p>By the end of the meal, Vader <em>badly</em> wanted to strangle someone. But there was no one to blame for his incompetence but himself. It wasn't like he could blame Palpatine.</p><p>"I've never had such an incompetent slave," Palpatine sneered. "You're lucky I'm not selling you."</p><p>*</p><p>(Vader tried not to remember being sold.)</p><p>(He tried not to remember how he'd told himself, over and over, that he was lucky - that he had a skill Watto valued, that he was <em>good</em> at it. That was why he and his mother were not in the mines, or a Hutt's dungeon, or worse. There was always something worse.)</p><p>*</p><p>The afternoon filled with increasingly maddening, nonsensical tasks.</p><p>Vader greeted the officials that came to speak with Palpatine, which was supposed to be a job for a footman - and which unnerved the officials. He cleaned up the trash left behind by a boisterious Ruling Council meeting - they did not usually leave trash behind; Palpatine must have let them in on the lesson.</p><p>For a while, Palpatine kept him kneeling between his tasks - not only down on one knee, but in several other submissive poses he must have picked up from his reading. When his inner thighs and the stumps above his knees began to feel as if they were actually on fire again, Palpatine relented and let him stand again. A broken slave couldn't serve him, after all, he explained.</p><p>Once, when Palpatine was discussing a military matter with one of the Joint Chiefs, Vader objected. "That group of insurgents is leaderless," he said. He'd murdered their leader last week. "They will not mount this kind of offensive. They will-"</p><p>"Slaves," said Palpatine, without looking up, "do not have tactical opinions."</p><p>The general he was speaking to raised his eyebrows, but had just enough sense of self-preservation not to say anything. Vader would have strangled him anyway, if Palpatine hadn't been right there. He wanted to sink into the floor.</p><p>"Find me a fan," Palpatine said later, when the general was gone. "A large one, like the ones you see palace slaves holding in fantasy vids. I want to try that."</p><p>"Where would-" Vader spluttered. He didn't know if they even had one anywhere in the palace.</p><p>Palpatine fixed him with a cold, bloodshot gaze. "You're the slave; you figure it out. Go."</p><p>*</p><p>(There was always something worse. At least Palpatine had kept, so far, to trivial things.)</p><p>(Palpatine could have tried to imitate the Shadow Club more closely. The people there who called themselves slaves were mostly there for sex, like everyone else, or to be tied up and tortured, or both<span>. There were more elaborate roleplays and more practical forms of service as well, but in the end it mostly boiled down to those simpler things. At least Palpatine had not shown any interest in </span><em>them</em><span>.)</span></p><p>
  <span>(But at the Shadow Club, of course, people chose to be called that, and they chose it because they enjoyed what would be done to them. T</span>
  <span>he word meant something different to them. It must have.)</span>
</p><p>*</p><p>"Time for afternoon tea," Palpatine said, stretching. "And I think my slave will make it for me. <em>Actually</em> make it this time; you're not going to bully the kitchen staff into doing it for you. Boil the water, steep the leaves, all of it."</p><p>Bullying the palace staff was how Vader had solved the fan problem. He'd found the people who managed the palace inventory - actual housekeeping professionals who made a good salary for it, not slaves - and he'd picked them up by their collars and shouted at them until they found him what he wanted. Palpatine must have found out about that.</p><p>Vader was just as bad at making tea as he'd been at serving lunch. He broke several teacups, and then he broke an entire kettle. After a half-dozen failed attempts, he finally carried the pot, cup, and saucer out to his master, who was sitting in the Imperial Suite's parlor, arms crossed an impatient.</p><p>Vader set the tea-things down ever so carefully, afraid he might spill them or break them again. He was acutely aware of how his master could punish him, though the punishments had so far been sparse. Palpatine picked up his teacup, sniffed it, and skeptically took a sip.</p><p>"This tea is cold," he said in disgust.</p><p>Vader visibly flinched.</p><p>It was becoming harder and harder not to do this, not to show weakness the way a child did. Vader <span>was drawing on a very old set of skills and responses, one that he thought he had forgotten. He had </span><em>wanted</em><span> to forget them. A master whose slaves displeased him had the right to hurt them, and Palpatine could hurt him in so many ways.</span></p><p>
  <span>But Palpatine didn't hit him with Force lightning, or with anything else. He gave Vader a long and uncomfortably close look, examining his mind, and then he gave a small, amused grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An hour later, fraying at the seams, Vader caught himself saying <em>yes, my master</em> in Huttese.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vader counted the hours, but he wasn't sure when Palpatine thought today would be over. After supper? After he ended his last meeting with a proper official? Later than that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt dizzy. He had already exhausted his repertoire of ways to imagine Palpatine violently dying. Some part of him looked forward to tomorrow, when he would be free of this, when he could find some excuse to go on a mission and murder the Empire's enemies until he felt better. But mostly he felt shaky and numb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Palpatine's last meeting was with a Senator, in the Imperial suite, doing the thing politicians did where they smiled politely and spoke of trivialities while actually, through little asides, planning something. Vader served coffee and candies to them both. He did not have enough mental strength left to follow the conversation, but he could attend to orders. Vader could attend to an order in his sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, as the Senator left, Palpatine yawned, stretched, and turned to Vader speculatively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Goodness me," he said, "I believe it's time for bed."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, my master," said Vader automatically. He dared, furtively, to hope: was their game over now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You'll attend me in my bedroom," Palpatine added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vader froze, his hand tightening into a fist.</span>
</p><p>"Isn't that something slaves do?" said Palpatine, his lip curling in amusement. "Aren't there slave valets, slave chambermaids...?"</p><p>
  <span>Of course there fucking were. Maybe that was all Palpatine was asking for, just someone to help him fuss with his clothes and his sheets. Vader felt no spark of sexual interest in Palpatine's mind; he never had, not even when Palpatine admitted to reading kink books. But Palpatine could never be trusted to be as he appeared to be. And it didn't matter either way; Vader had to obey.</span>
</p><p>Numbly, trying not to think about it, he followed Palpatine into the Imperial bedroom.</p><p>Vader had never actually been inside this room before. It was oddly plain. Tidy, of course, and spacious, and made from the finest materials, but there just wasn't much in it besides the simple black bed. As if this room meant nothing to Palpatine, only a place to park his fallible body when it needed a rest. The bed was unmade - he must have ordered the usual servants not to do it.</p><p>"That bed needs making," said Palpatine. "Replace the linens. I'll be right back." He vanished into the neighboring fresher.</p><p>Vader did not remember how to make a bed, certainly not an Emperor's bed. He was honestly not trying his best anymore. He stripped all the sheets and blankets off the bed and put them in a basket. He found a shelf of new linens with some difficulty, and he put them vaguely into the right places. He did a half-assed job fluffing the pillows. He still did not know what Palpatine would want him to do when he returned.</p><p>Eventually, Palpatine padded back in, barefoot. In the fresher, he had changed from his usual black hooded robes into a thin dark gray nightgown. His head was bare, the hideous lines of his face fully exposed. He walked carefully, guiding himself with his cane.</p><p>As Palpatine sat down on the edge of the bed, it struck Vader in a new way how physically repulsive his master was. Not that Vader looked any better, but he wanted to pick up that frail little body and snap it in two. It maddened him that he could not. There was a power there, he could <em>feel </em>the power there, which had nothing to do with mere flesh.</p><p>He waited. Palpatine turned to him, and wordlessly took in his mind once more, savoring his hate like the finest wine.</p><p>And then the moment broke. Palpatine relaxed somehow. He grinned, wide and casual.</p><p>"Well," he said, "that's all I wanted to do today. A bracing little game, wouldn't you say, my friend? I can see the appeal. I've rather enjoyed myself." He watched Vader's reaction, though Vader said nothing, and something in it amused him enough to elicit a chuckle. "Or were you hoping I would order you to do something else? Pervert that you are, now."</p><p>"No, master." At least there was this small mercy: he'd phrased the question so that Vader could politely answer with the truth.</p><p>"I'm going to have you sleep in your chamber in the lower areas of the palace, as usual. We can call them the slave quarters, if you would like. When you wake, you're free to go without consulting me again. I thought ahead and ensured you'd have a mission, so as to harness these emotions for some useful purpose. There will be plenty of Jedi to dispatch creatively."</p><p>"Yes, my master." Vader didn't think he could come up with any other words than these, even if prompted. He was too exhausted to endure. If Palpatine had not pointed him at a target like this, he might have vented his anger by destroying the <em>Devastator</em>'s entire bridge crew. Or half the palace staff.</p><p>Palpatine yawned and then tucked his feet under him, pulling the covers up. "Then off you go, my friend. I'll send your mission prospectus to the<em> Devastator</em> in the morning."</p><p>Vader was only too happy to leave.</p><p>*</p><p>He didn't sleep, of course, not immediately. He lay in his meditation chamber below the palace, tense, haunted, trying and failing to close his eyes.</p><p>Palpatine had wanted him to learn, of course, and the malleable nature of words was not the only thing. Vader had learned what he always learned from Palpatine's lessons: new ways his master could hurt him. New ways he could hurt himself. Pain, after all, was one of the things that fed the Dark Side. Anger and fear, hate and suffering. Vader would be strong tomorrow.</p><p>But there was one other thing.</p><p>Today had hurt. Playing the role of a slave hurt him more than he could bear. But it had also not really felt all that different, deep down, from any other day with Palpatine.</p><p>Maybe that, after all, was the real lesson.</p><p>Vader thought about that, when he should have been sleeping, for a long time.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I will be trying my best to catch up to the schedule from here! But I'm also, like... about this late with most of my actual, non-fanfic responsibilities as well, and fanfic is 1000% The Thing I Do For Fun, so I'm deliberately not stressing. I'll get all 31 days done, one way or another.</p><p>Also: my Thranto friend grabbed up the last couple slots, so prompts are officially closed.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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